Hallelujah
by tearsofbreakingglass
Summary: The Allies give the call for Prussia to be dissolved as a nation. Final words are said, and he finally get's something through Germany's head.


_February 1947_

"Let it be acknowledged that today, the twenty-fifth of February in the year 1947, that Prussia has been dissolved," England's orderly voice rang through the parlor. "This was voted upon by the Allies. Five yays and one nay. Will the former country please step forward."

With heavy feet, Prussia rose. He walked slowly to the center and faced the men that he had placed his life into. They had thrown it away accept for one.

France rose to address the victim. "Prussia, we give you zhe...honor of choosing how you would like to." The Frenchmen chocked. He thought for a moment on how to finish his wording. At last, he came up with "pass on."

An honor they claimed? It was the best he was going to get. Prussia wanted a funeral, that much he knew. He had to have something that would leave his body.

"I vould like you to shoot me," The Prussian smiled. "Und if I may, I'll choose those people. Afterwards, once I'm put in my finest suit - West, you better make sure of that - I vant a funeral. I vant my uniforms buried vith me. Along vith my veapons. Make zhe funeral grand. I vant to go out vith a bang!" He laughed at his sick humor. "Bang und guns. Funny till zhe end, huh Gilbert? Oh und call me Gilbert. Prussia no longer exists right?"

Russia returned Gilbert's smile. "Your wishes will be followed through. I hope I'm one of the people that shoot you, da?"

Gilbert made his way to the back of the room and pulled up a box. It was filled to brim with some of the best hand guns to date. He looked around the room to see who he should call up first. His eyes fell on a particular woman.

"Hungary," He breathed. "Step right up."

Hungary's eyes widened. She shakily made her way over to the box. A gun was placed in her hand. "Unless of course you vant to use your frying pan. But I'm so used to it by now, it might not even hurt me. Oh und vhen I'm gone, enjoy making out vith my pansy-ass cousin."

Gilbert turned away from her and turned to Austria. "Oh Pansy-Ass Cousin, come here. Now you can show everyone how big and tough Austria used to be." His tone was mocking and condescending.

Austria made no hesitations. He snatched the gun right out of Gilbert's outstretched palm. "Vhen does zhe fun begin?"

The albino laughed. He continued calling people up. Switzerland joined the ranks. Romano, Italy and England refused. Gilbert was finally down to the last three he wanted to kill him.

"Spain, France," Gilbert locked eyes with each of them. "My brothers need to join in."

"Prussia this is sick," France shook his head. "We refuse to kill you."

Spain looked at the judges. "Can't you see what you're doing here? Letting a country go haywire for your own sick entertainment? I expected this out of Russia, but I guess England, the pirate days are still here."

England sighed. "This is business, Spain. You wouldn't understand."

The red eyed man tapped his foot. "All you two have to do is fire zhe gun. If it misses, it misses. If it hits, it hits. Just make it look good if you miss."

The two admitted defeat. They got their guns and aimed high. At the same time they shot and took out two light bulbs.

Germany rose before Gilbert had addressed him. "I'm no fool Prussia. But don't blame me if I miss for once."

Gilbert smiled a real smile. "I von't West, I von't."

Suddenly, Germany stopped. "Italy, get a beer."

The Italian man ran and within minutes returned with an open bottle. Germany gave it to Prussia in trade for the gun.

"You once told me vhen I was younger zhat if you vere about to die, make sure you died drinking a beer. You're going to die drinking a beer."

Tears came in Prussia's eye. "I'll see you in hell, West."

Germany was taken aback. "Hell?"

"Countries like us, ve don't go to zhe promised land. Ve've killed too many to go to zhe better place. But I'll wait for you there. Und they'll be a twelve-pack of the finest." He turned to Spain and France. "Drink all zhe wine, eat all zhe bread, und seduce all zhe vomen. Live by that for me."

Gilbert took in a deep breath. "Kill me."

As the bullets went through him, he sipped his beer. He was bleeding all over the floor. So far he had been shot only in the arms and leg. He gave one look to his brother. "Ich liebe dich West, now kill me."

With tears in his eyes and a shaky hand, he fired the gun. In that second, Germany saw everything. He saw what his brother had been trying to tell him all these years. What he had missed. And what he had done.

It was too late though. Prussia was dead.

The Allies had won.

Germany would never forgive himself, but he had to move on somehow. And if he turned to beer like his brother had to drown the pain, than beer it is.

He would get through this life. Not for him, but for Prussia.


End file.
